Catcher 22
by spero spiro
Summary: On patrol one night, Ichigo and Toushiro simultaneously discover their true feelings and the inherent problems therein. Yaoi; Crackfic.


**Catcher-22**

**Note: Lord, I apologize. Please don't take this story too seriously. It's one-hundred percent pure **_**crack**_**, and that is honestly my only defense aside from not sleeping for two days and making the mistake of trying to make an honest attempt at contemplating whether Toushiro or Ichigo would top. Oh, and Naki. It was really all my fault, but she was present for the hatching of this scheme and that has to count for something, right? Oh, and all the things you think might be bad puns… yeah, they are. And on purpose. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach (and the fans would prefer it stay that way), I'm not making money off of these fanworks (half the time I feel like I should pay the poor souls who read this dribble), and I don't want to stake any claim on the series. Please, please, please don't sue me. I might be forced to write more crack, and no one wants that.**

**WARNINGS****: Um, crack, cliches, and purposeful attempts at bad humor. Oh, and buttsecks… sort of. You know, just about everything your mom warned you not to read on these sites.**

It had really been an accident, as such things usually are. Normal patrols throughout the city were typically handed off to lower-ranking shinigami, but through a random twist of events entirely too well-planned to be solely the result of Murphy's Law at work, Hitsugaya Toushiro and Kurosaki Ichigo were patrolling the streets of the latter's hometown with identical frowns of displeasure. It certainly seemed random enough. The respective 12th and 14th seats of Ukitake's division who were supposed to patrol that night had swapped shifts with some unseated shinigami from Kuchiki's division, who in turn passed them off to the unfortunate pair in a spectacular game of strip poker. The choice had been given rather plainly to the losing duo who had very suddenly found themselves without any bargaining chips to free them from their debts: strip stark naked and streak around the Sixth Division headquarters while Kuchiki-taichou practiced with his bankai, or take the undesirable shifts.

Ichigo had been unable to figure out what the big deal with the shift was, until he was told that his eight-hour shift with Toushiro began at nine in the evening and lasted until five in the morning. The long shift _would_ have been alright, had circumstance already played its part in getting him there and left well enough alone. However, circumstance would also have it that there had been an easily misinterpreted look of terror and/or lust exchanged between himself and Toushiro when they agreed to take the patrol shifts.

They exchanged another such look before awkwardly looking away from one another. Toushiro blushed as brightly as Ichigo's namesake before standing up with a mumbled excuse for moving around while patroling. As nature is chaos when left to its own devices, Murphy's Law was enacted almost immediately upon detection of an awkward situation just asking to be made more painfully embarrassing for all those involved. Tripping over the hem of his own _haori_, Toushiro stumbled, only to fall spread-eagle on top of Ichigo, who was ironically positioned so that they would be caught in a compromising and terribly uncomfortable position.

Or, rather, it might have been compromising had anyone else been around to see. By the same token, it would have also been considerably more awkward were it not for the desperate emotions that came simultaneously tearing to the surface of both of them. It was wild, passionate, and entirely unexpected. In fact, neither had been remotely aware of their burning desire for one another before that moment, unless you counted the half-hearted, misunderstood glance during their briefing. Their first kiss was awkward in the beginning before morphing into a beautiful union of their mingling passions; burning hot and ice cold.

It was only a matter of time before they were fumbling for the ties of one another's _hakama_, blessing whatever force of nature that made spirits invisible to most of the mortal population. Granted, there would be the few insomniacs with spiritual power enough to get a free, yet likely unwelcome show, but neither were coherent enough to care.

Driven by pure instinct, both made the first move to position themselves behind the other and froze. Tentatively, they circled one another around the black heap of their abandoned clothing, feinting one way or another before their shared intention dawned slowly upon them.

Ichigo's eyebrows creased together in the center of his forehead. "You're… you're going to be… um, you know, right?"

Toushiro's eyebrows shot up, passion ebbing into wariness. Ichigo, wonderful, handsome and perfect as he was (how could he have never noticed?), couldn't possibly think that _he_, the Captain of the 10th Division, Hitsugaya Toushiro, would be… be…

"Hell no." Hitsugaya hadn't quite meant the words with the repulsive force he put behind them; except, well, he did. Regardless, the mood was already irreversibly destroyed. "I outrank you, berry."

Ichigo's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me, shorty? You're the younger one here."

Crossing his arms firmly over his bare chest, Hitsugaya leveled a cold glare at him. "I'm probably at least five times your age, Kurosaki, if you want to talk about _kids_."

"Yeah, well…" Ichigo stumbled over several unsuitable insults before pointing directly at his would-be partner's flaccid man… er, boyhood. "I'm bigger than you are. Clearly, I top."

Hitsugaya looked as though he would rather swallow live snails than let Ichigo slide on this one. Failing at coming up with a better retort, even though his arguments about holding seniority in both rank and age were obviously much stronger than a simple case of _size_, he solidified his stance without uncrossing his arms.

"Fine. We fight for it."

Ichigo considered this possibility and, deciding that this was the only clear path available, gave a curt nod. "Fine."

They launched at one another in a frenzy of desperation to prove themselves worthy of being top. Pride and honor were on the line, and neither had any plans of giving up. It promised to be a long battle of attrition before Hitsugaya stumbled back over his _zanpakutou_ and seized it in a futile hope that he might gain a momentary advantage before Ichigo found his own sword.

It was within ten minutes that the disturbance of their battle, which had at some point grown to involve the bankai of both shinigami, summoned the Vice-Captains of the 10th and 6th Divisions to the scene. Neither Matsumoto nor Renji thought to question _why_ the two were fighting as if for their lives, nor even to intervene for the sake of the rapidly weakening pair.

Instead, Matsumoto leaned over to Renji with a sly grin on her face. "Hitsugaya-taichou is kicking Kurosaki-san's ass, isn't he?"

Renji rolled his eyes before indicating Ichigo with his chin. "Yeah, but can't you see the size of Ichigo's—"

The growing roar of the battle drowned out his last few words.

**End**


End file.
